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THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES · VII
vague memory that as I have travelled by it I have occasionally
seen windows just above my head. Now, suppose that a train
halted under such a window, would there be any diffi culty in
laying a body upon the roof?”
“It seems most improbable.”
“We must fall back upon the old axiom that when all other contingencies fail, whatever remains, however improbable,
must be the truth. Here all other contingencies have failed.
When I found that the leading international agent, who had
just left London, lived in a row of houses which abutted upon
the Underground, I was so pleased that you were a little astonished at my sudden frivolity.”
“Oh, that was it, was it?”
“Yes, that was it. Mr. Hugo Oberstein, of 13 Caulfi eld
Gardens, had become my objective. I began my operations at
Gloucester Road Station, where a very helpful offi cial walked
with me along the track and allowed me to satisfy myself not
only that the back-stair windows of Caulfi eld Gardens open
on the line but the even more essential fact that, owing to the
intersection of one of the larger railways, the Underground
trains are frequently held motionless for some minutes at that
very spot.”
“Splendid, Holmes! You have got it!”
“So far — so far, Watson. We advance, but the goal is afar.
Well, having seen the back of Caulfi eld Gardens, I visited the
front and satisfi ed myself that the bird was indeed fl own. It
is a considerable house, unfurnished, so far as I could judge,
in the upper rooms. Oberstein lived there with a single valet, who was probably a confederate entirely in his confi dence.
101
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
We must bear in mind that Oberstein has gone to the Continent to dispose of his booty, but not with any idea of fl ight; for
he had no reason to fear a warrant, and the idea of an amateur
domiciliary visit would certainly never occur to him. Yet that
is precisely what we are about to make.”
“Could we not get a warrant and legalize it?”
“Hardly on the evidence.”
“What can we hope to do?”
“We cannot tell what correspondence may be there.”
“I don’t like it, Holmes.”
“My dear fellow, you shall keep watch in the street. I’ll do
the criminal part. It’s not a time to stick at trifl es. Think of Mycroft’s note, of the Admiralty, the Cabinet, the exalted person
who waits for news. We are bound to go.”
My answer was to rise from the table.
“You are right, Holmes. We are bound to go.”
He sprang up and shook me by the hand.
“I knew you would not shrink at the last,” said he, and for
a moment I saw something in his eyes which was nearer to
tenderness than I had ever seen. The next instant he was his
masterful, practical self once more.
“It is nearly half a mile, but there is no hurry. Let us walk,”
said he. “Don’t drop the instruments, I beg. Your arrest as a
suspicious character would be a most unfortunate complication.”
Caulfi eld Gardens was one of those lines of fl at-faced pillared, and porticoed houses which are so prominent a product of the middle Victorian epoch in the West End of London.
Next door there appeared to be a children’s party, for the mer-
102
THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES · VII
ry buzz of young voices and the clatter of a piano resounded
through the night. The fog still hung about and screened us
with its friendly shade. Holmes had lit his lantern and fl ashed
it upon the massive door.
“This is a serious proposition,” said he. “It is certainly bolted as well as locked. We would do better in the area. There is
an excellent archway down yonder in case a too zealous policeman should intrude. Give me a hand, Watson, and I’ll do
the same for you.”
A minute later we were both in the area. Hardly had we
reached the dark shadows before the step of the policeman
was heard in the fog above. As its soft rhythm died away,
Holmes set to work upon the lower door. I saw him stoop
and strain until with a sharp crash it fl ew open. We sprang
through into the dark passage, closing the area door behind
us. Holmes let the way up the curving, uncarpeted stair. His
little fan of yellow light shone upon a low window.
“Here we are, Watson — this must be the one.” He threw
it open, and as he did so there was a low, harsh murmur,
growing steadily into a loud roar as a train dashed past us in
the darkness. Holmes swept his light along the window-sill. It
was thickly coated with soot from the passing engines, but the
black surface was blurred and rubbed in places.
“You can see where they rested the body. Halloa, Watson!
what is this? There can be no doubt that it is a blood mark.”
He was pointing to faint discolourations along the woodwork of the window. “Here it is on the stone of the stair also.
The demonstration is complete. Let us stay here until a train
stops.”
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ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
We had not long to wait. The very next train roared from
the tunnel as before, but slowed in the open, and then, with a
creaking of brakes, pulled up immediately beneath us. It was
not four feet from the window-ledge to the roof of the carriages. Holmes softly closed the window.
“So far we are justifi ed,” said he. “What do you think of it,
Watson?”
“A masterpiece. You have never risen to a greater height.”
“I cannot agree with you there. From the moment that I
conceived the idea of the body being upon the roof, which surely was not a very abstruse one, all the rest was inevitable. If it
were not for the grave interests involved the affair up to this
point would be insignifi cant. Our diffi culties are still before us.
But perhaps we may fi nd something here which may help us.”
We had ascended the kitchen stair and entered the suite
of rooms upon the fi rst fl oor. One was a dining-room, severely
furnished and containing nothing of interest. A second was
a bedroom, which also drew blank. The remaining room appeared more promising, and my companion settled down to
a systematic examination. It was littered with books and papers, and was evidently used as a study. Swiftly and methodically Holmes turned over the contents of drawer after drawer
and cupboard after cupboard, but no gleam of success came
to brighten his austere face. At the end of an hour he was no
further than when he started.
“The cunning dog has covered his tracks,” said he. “He has
left nothing to incriminate him. His dangerous correspondence has been destroyed or removed. This is our last chance.”
It was a small tin cash-box which stood upon the writing-desk. Holmes pried it open with his chisel. Several rolls
104
THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES · VII
of paper were within, covered with fi gures and calculations,
without any note to show to what they referred. The recurring
words, “water pressure” and “pressure to the square inch” suggested some possible relation to a submarine. Holmes tossed
them all impatiently aside. There only remained an envelope
with some small newspaper slips inside it. He shook them out
on the table, and at once I saw by his eager face that his hopes
had been raised.
“What’s this, Watson? Eh? What’s this? Record of a series
of messages in the advertisements of a paper. Daily Telegraph
agony column by the print and paper. Right-hand top corner
of a page. No dates — but messages arrange themselves. This
must be the fi rst:
“Hoped to hear sooner. Terms agreed to. Write fully to address given on card.
“Pierrot.
“Next comes:
“Too complex for description. Must have full report, Stuff
awaits you when goods delivered.
“Pierrot.
“Then comes:
“Matter presses. Must withdraw offer unless contract completed. Make appointment by letter. Will confi rm by advertisement.
“Pierrot.
105
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
“Finally:
“Monday night after nine. Two taps. Only ourselves. Do
not be so suspicious. Payment in hard cash when goods delivered.
“Pierrot.
“A fairly complete record, Watson! If we could only get at
the man at the other end!” He sat lost in thought, tapping his
fi ngers on the table. Finally he sprang to his feet.
“Well, perhaps it won’t be so diffi cult, after all. There is
nothing more to be done here, Watson. I think we might drive
round to the offi ces of the Daily Telegraph, and so bring a
good day’s work to a conclusion.”
Mycroft Holmes and Lestrade had come round by appointment after breakfast next day and Sherlock Holmes had recounted to them our proceedings of the day before. The professional shook his head over our confessed burglary.
“We can’t do these things in the force, Mr. Holmes,” said
he. “No wonder you get results that are beyond us. But some
of these days you’ll go too far, and you’ll fi nd yourself and
your friend in trouble.”
“For England, home and beauty — eh, Watson? Martyrs on
the altar of our country. But what do you think of it, Mycroft?”
“Excellent, Sherlock! Admirable! But what use will you
make of it?”
Holmes picked up the Daily Telegraph which lay upon
the table.
“Have you seen Pierrot’s advertisement to-day?”
“What? Another one?”
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THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES · VII
“Yes, here it is:
“To-night. Same hour. Same place. Two taps. Most vitally
important. Your own safety at stake.
“Pierrot.
“By George!” cried Lestrade. “If he answers that we’ve got
him!”
“That was my idea when I put it in. I think if you could
both make it convenient to come with us about eight o’clock
to Caulfi eld Gardens we might possibly get a little nearer to a
solution.”
One of the most remarkable characteristics of Sherlock
Holmes was his power of throwing his brain out of action and
switching all his thoughts on to lighter things whenever he had
convinced himself that he could no longer work to advantage. I
remember that during the whole of that memorable day he lost
himself in a monograph which he had undertaken upon the
Polyphonic Motets of Lassus. For my own part I had none of this
power of detachment, and the day, in consequence, appeared to
be interminable. The great national importance of the issue, the
suspense in high quarters, the direct nature of the experiment
which we were trying — all combined to work upon my nerve.
It was a relief to me when at last, after a light dinner, we set
out upon our expedition. Lestrade and Mycroft met us by appointment at the outside of Gloucester Road Station. The area
door of Oberstein’s house had been left open the night before,
and it was necessary for me, as Mycroft Holmes absolutely and
107
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
indignantly declined to climb the railings, to pass in and open
the hall door. By nine o’clock we were all seated in the study,
waiting patently for our man.
An hour passed and yet another. When eleven struck, the
measured beat of the great church clock seemed to sound
the dirge of our hopes. Lestrade and Mycroft were fi dgeting
in their seats and looking twice a minute at their watches.
Holmes sat silent and composed, his eyelids half shut, but every sense on the alert. He raised his head with a sudden jerk.
“He is coming,” said he.
There had been a furtive step past the door. Now it returned. We heard a shuffl ing sound outside, and then two
sharp taps with the knocker. Holmes rose, motioning us to
remain seated. The gas in the hall was a mere point of light.
He opened the outer door, and then as a dark fi gure slipped
past him he closed and fastened it. “This way!” we heard him
say, and a moment later our man stood before us. Holmes
had followed him closely, and as the man turned with a cry
of surprise and alarm he caught him by the collar and threw
him back into the room. Before our prisoner had recovered
his balance the door was shut and Holmes standing with his
back against it. The man glared round him, staggered, and fell
senseless upon the fl oor. With the shock, his broad-brimmed
hat fl ew from his head, his cravat slipped sown from his lips,
and there were the long light beard and the soft, handsome
delicate features of Colonel Valentine Walter.
Holmes gave a whistle of surprise.
“You can write me down an ass this time, Watson,” said he.
“This was not the bird that I was looking for.”
108
THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES · VII
“Who is he?” asked Mycroft eagerly.
“The younger brother of the late Sir James Walter, the
head of the Submarine Department. Yes, yes; I see the fall of
the cards. He is coming to. I think that you had best leave his
examination to me.”
We had carried the prostrate body to the sofa. Now our
prisoner sat up, looked round him with a horror-stricken face,
and passed his hand over his forehead, like one who cannot
believe his own senses.
“What is this?” he asked. “I came here to visit Mr. Oberstein.”
“Everything is known, Colonel Walter,” said Holmes.
“How an English gentleman could behave in such a manner
is beyond my comprehension. But your whole correspondence
and relations with Oberstein are within our knowledge. So
also are the circumstances connected with the death of young
Cadogan West. Let me advise you to gain at least the small
credit for repentance and confession, since there are still some
details which we can only learn from your lips.”
The man groaned and sank his face in his hands. We waited, but he was silent.
“I can assure you,” said Holmes, “that every essential is already known. We know that you were pressed for money; that
you took an impress of the keys which your brother held; and
that you entered into a correspondence with Oberstein, who
answered your letters through the advertisement columns of
the Daily Telegraph. We are aware that you went down to the
offi ce in the fog on Monday night, but that you were seen and
followed by young Cadogan West, who had probably some
109
ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
previous reason to suspect you. He saw your theft, but could
not give the alarm, as it was just possible that you were taking the papers to your brother in London. Leaving all his private concerns, like the good citizen that he was, he followed
you closely in the fog and kept at your heels until you reached
this very house. There he intervened, and then it was, Colonel
Walter, that to treason you added the more terrible crime of
murder.”
“I did not! I did not! Before God I swear that I did not!”
cried our wretched prisoner.
“Tell us, then, how Cadogan West met his end before you
laid him upon the roof of a railway carriage.”
“I will. I swear to you that I will. I did the rest. I confess it.
It was just as you say. A Stock Exchange debt had to be paid. I
needed the money badly. Oberstein offered me fi ve thousand.
It was to save myself from ruin. But as to murder, I am as innocent as you.”
“What happened, then?”
“He had his suspicions before, and he followed me as you
describe. I never knew it until I was at the very door. It was
thick fog, and one could not see three yards. I had given two
taps and Oberstein had come to the door. The young man
rushed up and demanded to know what we were about to do
with the papers. Oberstein had a short life-preserver. He always carried it with him. As West forced his way after us into
the house Oberstein struck him on the head. The blow was
a fatal one. He was dead within fi ve minutes. There he lay in
the hall, and we were at our wit’s end what to do. Then Oberstein had this idea about the trains which halted under his
110
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